


Begin Again

by theimpossiblegeekygrrl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-War, F/M, HP: EWE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 05:42:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8132510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimpossiblegeekygrrl/pseuds/theimpossiblegeekygrrl
Summary: Anne has been chasing warmth after leaving post-War Britain. Little does she know that when her travels bring her to the American desert, she will have found her way back home.For the 2016 Sevrosmerta Fest on LJ.





	

_Merciful Morgana, how did people live like this?_  
  
Anne closed her eyes and wiped the sweat from her brow, ignoring the desire to just grab her wand, cast a cooling charm, and be comfortable again until the spell wore off. But she wasn’t in Hogsmeade anymore, though some mornings she woke from such a deep sleep that she forgot her little tavern and inn were gone, burned down in the frenzy of the Battle of Hogwarts.  
  
Sighing, she opened her eyes and focused on the blue sky above her, now trying to forget the desert beneath her trainers.  
  
That’s what she was doing here, after all. Forgetting. Two very long years after the end of the War, a year after the last trial ended in Lucius Malfoy’s exoneration, and she still couldn’t forget.  
  
Not really - not like she wanted to.  
  
Anne remembered it all too well.  
  
The sensation of the Imperius Curse smothering every desire she had to act of her own accord.  
  
The scent of smoke as she watched Hogwarts burn while she attempted to defend Hogsmeade.  
  
The sound of screams as her friends, some of them the students from the school, perished around her.  
  
The sight of her lover, lying in a pool of his own blood on the dusty floor of a building that the Ministry finally demolished a month before she left England.  
  
Her hands went damp as memory threatened to overtake her, and she brushed them against her khaki shorts, grimacing when she touched the cheap material. She hated Muggle clothes and would give anything to be back in her gauzy skirts and shoes that she’d enchanted to sparkle in any light. The shoes, at least, were in her bag, back at the hotel. That thought made her smile for the first time all day, and she licked her lips in anticipation of the drink she would have tonight while wearing them. Drunk Muggles wouldn’t notice them, other than thinking them to be the pretty footwear that they were.  
  
“Anne!”  
  
It was the tour guide, Timothy. He kept an even better eye on the group than Minerva used to when--  
  
“Coming!” she replied, wiping a tear from her eye as she walked back to rest of the group of travelers. When she climbed into the bus ( _itdoesntremindmeoftheKnightBus_ ), she realized that she hadn’t even paid any attention to whatever it was that they had stopped to see.  
  
Had it been some sort of canyon?  
  
_Did she even care?_  
  


_**_

  
  
Anne regarded her pretty shoes, feeling her lips pull back as a smile threatened to break through. The turquoise was so bright, even brighter than the Black Lake during the summer when she and Severus used to go skinny dipping after the ‘little idiots’ had all gone home.  
  
Their last summer together, barely year before Albus’s death, had been so perfect, even though his sadness consumed him even more than usual. When he thought she wasn’t looking, sometimes his expression was so tense that Anne thought the creases in his brow would never go away.  
  
They did though, even if it wasn’t when anyone else could see. At night, when she closed the tavern and came up to her rooms, stripping off her skirts as she walked up the narrow stairs, his mind seemed to be at peace and sometimes the man almost looked happy. Especially in those moments when he first buried himself inside her, grunting when the sharp points of her heels pinched the pale skin of his arse.  
  
Severus had loved those shoes, almost as much as Anne did.  
  
Chuckling, mostly to keep the tears that threatened to flow at bay, she checked her reflection in the mirror. For a moment she waited for it to tell her to stop being such a ninny. But, it did not speak, as it would have back home. She critiqued her own appearance instead, taking in her green eyes, pale lashes, and skin bronzed from her travels. Her hair was so curled (thanks to her dwindling supply of Sleakeazy’s) that it looked as though it could break free from the combs that held it up, and it was even blonder than it had ever been.  
  
“And grayer,” she snorted as she turned away. Old before her time, thanks to the damn War.  
  
Her skirts were now cotton, softly moving around her as she walked, though they didn’t float as they once did. They were black, befitting the role she had adopted as a widow. That was true, from a certain point of view. Anne had once firmly believed that after the War was over Severus would have made his home with her, as his duty-bound mind would have finally been at rest. Among his things in Spinner's End, she’d found a ring – silver, inlaid with jade and heavily engraved with ancient Slytherin markings.  
  
Inside the band were her initials entwined around a single “S”.  
  
She rubbed the ring where it sat on the fourth finger of her left hand, the same place it had resided since she’d placed it there. It was the only permanent thing in her life now, the only stability in her nomadic lifestyle. As much as she hated the sun and heat, she chased it without question, wanting to feel it on her skin instead of the cool chill of the Ministry dungeons as she sat in the courts, watching each of the guilty pay for what they had done. She shivered even now, remembering when a Dementor brushed her side as it floated by to deliver its kiss to Pius Thicknesse, who had not been as overtaken by the Imperius Curse as everyone had believed.  
  
Covering her mouth with a shaking hand, Anne fought the bile that rose in the back of her throat. She’d only seen that one kiss, and it had been enough horror to last a lifetime.  
  
After composing herself, she placed the subtle glamours over her face that she always wore when she wasn’t alone and quietly walked to the small bar located in the center of the hotel. Her dwellings for tonight were far from luxurious, but they were comfortable, and the bar was no exception. It was actually a space that she could have designed herself, she mused, taking in the heavy red fabric that covered the cushions on the cherry wood stools. The bar top was waxed to such a shine that she almost had to look away, though she was so impressed by the level of care that she didn’t want to look away for long.  
  
It was a place she would have been proud to work in, or even own outright. The assortment of alcohol was up to her standards as well, even though she was positive that this Muggle establishment wouldn’t have a bottle of Butterbeer on hand nor a drop of Honey Meade. She licked her lips, wanting just a taste of either one. There was a Wizarding city on the coast, once she made it there. With any luck, it wouldn’t be too long before she could have a few of the things that she was so fond of.  
  
Sitting down on the stool and groaning a little as her bum touched the heavenly cushion, she looked for the bartender and just caught his eye before he moved on to another customer.  
  
_Now **that**  is a fine specimen a man._  
  
Anne’s cheeks warmed as she shook her head, trying to knock the thought from her head. There hadn’t been a single (or married) man she’d found attractive since Severus died, and now it wasn’t time to lust after someone she didn’t really want.  
  
“How can I help you?”  
  
_Merlin._  
  
That voice. She looked up and realized that it belonged to the bartender. Smiling politely, she nodded and said, “Yes, I’d like a martini.”  
  
“Vodka?”  
  
“Merl--er-- _Christ,_ , no, I’d like a gin martini, please. Just a splash of vermouth with--“  
  
“Onion?”  
  
She narrowed her eyes, focusing on the man’s very dark ones. Black, and so dark and oily that the irises looked as though they had a life of their own. “Yes, onion, please. How did you know?”  
  
“You just look like the type,” he said, the drawl in his voice not completely disguising the trace of an accent that sounded remarkably familiar.  
  
“And what type is that?” she asked, watching his hands as he prepared her drink.  
  
“Classy, good taste. Knowledgeable about her drinks.”  
  
“I am, I suppose. At least knowledgeable about drinks. I used to own a tav--a  _bar_ , before it burned down at least.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice so soft that she looked back up to his lips so that she could catch the words. “That must have been devastating.”  
  
“It was,” she said, nodding as her eyes drifted back down to his hands. They were very much like her own, nicked with tiny scars from cutting thousands of assorted items for drinks over the years. When he slid her martini to her, the crystal clear liquid frosting the outside of the glass, she regretted not having met someone like him before she gave her heart away to another man.  
  
“Try it,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave.  
  
Anne shivered even before she touched the cold drink, though neither she nor the room were cold. His voice, this man’s voice made her body stand on guard, as though in anticipation for his touch. She became acutely aware that she was aroused, for the first time since Severus died.  
  
Her ( _gods! Severus called it her pussy or cunt, even though she never had given her lady parts a name_ ) body tingled, heat pooling between her legs until she was sure she was wet. Squirming slightly, and embarrassed at her reaction to a stranger, she took the drink and sipped it, letting the liquor swirl in her mouth before she swallowed it.  
  
“Is it too strong? You look flushed,” he remarked.  
  
“Do I?” she said, blushing more that he had noticed the more visible signs of her arousal. “No, it’s not too strong. It’s perfect, actually.”  
  
“Thank you,” he said before turning his attention to the man in the seat next to hers.  
  
Biting her lower lip, she tried to covertly watch him as he spoke to his customer. Even beyond his eyes and voice, he was a striking bloke, though handsome wouldn’t be a word that she would use. Like Severus, his face was completely occupied by a nose that only a mother could love. He was tan, heavily so, and the tan accentuated rather than diminished his unfortunate teeth. So much like her lover, her “husband”, to the point that she considered seeing if he would indulge her in a one night stand, just so that she could pretend that Severus was alive for just one more hour.  
  
Anne closed her eyes, realizing that she was on the verge of tears. Perhaps the drink really had been too strong, for she never cried anymore. She reached into her bag for enough sickles ( _no--cash, dammit_ ) to cover the drink and a tip.  
  
“You aren’t leaving so soon, are you? It’s not so often that I have such a lovely woman to keep me company. May I make you another?”  
  
“No, I’d like to stay, but I’m not feeling so well,” she lied, looking down at her shoes and smiling as they glinted in the low light. “I’d best be going.”  
  
“Stay,” he said, his voice a plea as he reached over the bar and touched her hand.  
  
“I can’t, really. I’m a widow, you see, and--“  
  
“Are you now?” he asked, ignoring her protests as he started making her another martini.  
  
“My husband died in battle, and I’ve never gotten over him, so…”  
  
“So… that means you can’t have a drink in a bar anymore?” His voice had lifted slightly, no longer so deep that it sent tingles all over her body. “Stay a little longer. Just to talk, nothing more. Perhaps you can tell me where he found that beautiful ring on your finger, assuming that is your wedding ring.”  
  
“It is,” she sighed. Relenting, she took the fresh drink, frowning at the slightly pink tinge and the cherries that had sunk to the bottom of the glass. “What’s this?”  
  
“A concoction of my own creation.”  
  
“I don’t really like drinks with fruit,” she said lamely. Severus had loved those kinds of drinks - any drink really, especially a stout glass of Ogden’s. But secretly, when it was just the two of them, he wanted something with passionfruit, strawberries--anything sweet with a strong kick.  
  
“Just give it a try,” he said, winking. “The locals say it’s the best thing on the menu.”  
  
She smiled politely and tried not to grimace as she sniffed the glass before lifting it to her lips. It was delicious, as promised, and was just the kind of thing she would have made for Severus after a vigorous afternoon of sex. Anne was honestly surprised that she liked it as much as she did, and she grinned happily when she put the glass down. “What’s in this?”  
  
“Oh, a few of my favorite things,” he said mysteriously, nodding when the man next to her stood and paid his tab. When he walked away, Anne looked around and realized that they were alone. Something told her she shouldn’t be alone with this man for long. Something about him made her feel anxious, despite the fact that he also made her feel oddly safe.  
  
“What do you call it?”  
  
He leaned forward, his elbows sliding over the smooth wood as his forearms came to rest between hers. “A  _Madam Rosie_.”  
  
Anne’s mouth went dry. “A what?  
  
“You heard me… Anne Morgana Rosmerta.”  
  
“How do you know my name? I’m wearing a-- _shite_ , I’m wearing a glamour, how do you know who I am?”  
  
Like melting ice, she felt the magic slide from her face and noticed that his face was changing as well. He was still tanned, but angular features started to protrude from the false softness. Peaking from the top of the collar of his black silk shirt was a group of scars, the tissue thickly roped and still slightly pink. Thin and wraithlike he no longer was, but power still exuded from every pore of his body.  
  
“Severus,” she whispered, feeling twin rivers of tears run freely from her eyes. “But you’re--“  
  
“Alive, witch,” he said.  
  
Anne swooned, but he was there to catch her, encasing her in his thin arms. She felt herself being carried and realized he was just lifting her to the bartop. She felt the wood under her thighs and was vaguely aware that he’d lifted her skirts. Never one to wear knickers, she was bare underneath, and she heard him groan thickly as he sat on the stool where she had just been.  
  
“I have missed your sweet cunt almost as much as I’ve missed your smile, Anne. May I?” he asked, his voice pleading with her so gently that it rocked her beating heart.  
  
“Yes! Gods, yes! Please,” she babbled, sucking in a huge breath when his tongue touched her clit.  
  
_This is the wellspring of magic_.  
  
Severus’s mouth sucked on her folds, his tongue doing unspeakable things to her core. Her whole body buzzed, making her dizzy until she realized she was making them float. She hadn’t used magic unintentionally since before Draco cursed her, and in fact part of her had often wondered if the boy had taken part of her magic when he’d raped her mind. Now she knew that it was still there, just waiting to be tapped into again.  
  
Anne couldn’t remember ever feeling this happy, and when the first orgasm took her, she trembled so violently that Severus had to calm her as though she was a child. Time lost all meaning when his mouth returned to the apex of her thighs, and her last cognizant thought before pleasure overwhelmed her completely was that she was going to kill him herself if he didn’t explain everything to her… later.  
  


_**_

  
  
Severus carried her upstairs, setting her on cool sheets that were deep green and smelled like citrus fruit. Anne rolled onto her side as he undressed, letting her hands wander to all the places his mouth had been. Her body felt weak, but she still wanted more. If he fucked her into oblivion tonight, it wouldn’t matter, because she would have left this existence completely and utterly happy.  
  
“Why did you leave?” she managed to ask, even as her fingers rubbed over her slick clit.  
  
“Exile,” he replied, the pain in his voice so raw that her whole body went still. “And not by my choice. The Ministry felt that I still needed to be punished for Albus’s murder, mercy killing or not. And if I stayed, I would have been considered the War’s hero, not Potter.”  
  
“But I was there--you were dead!”  
  
He slid into bed next to her, cupping her face as he rubbed his naked body against hers. The head of his cock pressed against her hip, and the heat of it made her suck in a breath. “Paralyzed, by the snake’s venom.”  
  
“Why didn’t you contact me, send me a note - anything? Severus,” she panted, arousal swelling in her again as he took his cock in hand and started to nudge against her insistently.  
  
“I was not allowed. But I’ve been calling to you, my love. Every night, telling you to chase the warmth. To find me.” He was almost at her entrance, but was teasing her with light flicks of his shaft and fingers against her clit, just as he always did.  
  
“I found you. Thank Merlin for that.”  
  
“That you did, my love,” he said smoothly, his accent returning as the final parts of his glamour fell away. She could see his mark, now pale, rise against his skin, and she wanted to lick it to see if it would still make him howl. “And I see you wear my ring, declare yourself my widow.”  
  
“Aren’t I?”  
  
Severus smirked, letting his penis just slip between herfolds. “Would you declare yourself my wife, now that you’ve found me?”  
  
“Yes, Severus. Yes! You know I would; it’s what I’ve always wanted. I love you, even to the ends of the Earth.”  
  
“And I, you, Anne.  _And I, you_ ,” he groaned, snapping his hips just enough to slide inside her. The blunt head of his cock rubbed every place that made her shake, and stars popped into her vision as he made love to her so tenderly that she thought she might perish from joy.  
  
“Marry me.”  
  
“Yes!”  
  
“Stay with me.”  
  
“Always, Severus! For the rest of our lives…”  
  


_**_

  
  
“Looks like ol’ Phillip finally found himself a lady.”  
  
“She’s a looker, too, from what I hear. Too good lookin’ for someone as homely as--“  
  
“Shhh, they’re coming in!” Quickly, Wendy moved to her next table, flicking her eyes to the pair.  
  
_Kee-rist! A looker indeed!_  
  
Phillip’s companion was blonde and fair, with a pair of eyes so vividly colored that she could see the green flecks from her position several tables away. And those breasts! Wendy had never had an inclination to salivate over a woman’s body, but this one might make her change her mind.  
  
She took several orders to the cook’s station, ringing the small bell as she hung up the ticket. Sneaking a peek back to the pair, Wendy’s face colored when she saw that Phillip’s hand had disappeared into the woman’s long, gauzy skirts. It made her laugh. She didn’t realize the dour man had it in him to be fresh with a lady in public. She walked to their table, taking her time to watch the blonde squirm slightly in her seat, all the while whispering frantically in Phillip’s ear.  
  
“How can I help y'all?” Wendy asked, lifting her hand to her face to cover the smile.  
  
“I would like three eggs, sunny-side up, two pieces of toast, and an order of bacon, please,” Phillip said, never taking his eyes from his companion. “And Anne would like oatmeal with a bowl of raisins and brown sugar on the side.”  
  
“And tea,” Anne said a little breathily. “Hot tea with milk and sugar.”  
  
“We don’t serve hot tea, ma’am. Just coffee.”  
  
“Then coffee,” Anne giggled, biting her lip.  
  
“And tell Walt to make it on the fly, if he would, Wendy. We’re going to the courthouse to get married when we leave.”  
  
Wendy was stunned. A woman no one had ever seen before flies into town, and now Phillip is taking her as a wife? “Congratulations, Phil. I didn’t realize you had a lady.”  
  
“She’s been setting some affairs in order back home, but she’s here now.”  
  
“Now and forever,” Anne said, her lips trembling as Phillip leaned over to kiss her.  
  
Wendy smiled and walked away, already yelling at Walt to get their order ready. Looking back once, she was puzzled when she saw sparks leave Phillip’s fingers when he reached for Anne’s hands.  
  
But things like that couldn’t happen.  
  
Later, when she returned to the table and the sparks were no longer there, she decided it was merely a trick of the light.


End file.
